


In And With

by StillFeelLikeATeenager



Category: One Tree Hill
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 10:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17917301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillFeelLikeATeenager/pseuds/StillFeelLikeATeenager
Summary: It's mere moments before the wedding of Peyton Sawyer and Lucas Scott.Peyton has sent Brooke away for a few minutes so she (Peyton) can get a break from the Bridezilla-ness (of Brooke!) and then Nathan steps in for a quiet pre-wedding word.What you need to know: everything canon to this point, except that Peyton is not pregnant, or at least it’s not public knowledge because it’s still really early days in the pregnancy.





	In And With

Nathan steps into the groom’s tent, hand casually in trouser pocket, to find his older brother fiddling with his tie.

“Sharp tuxes, huh?” he comments to the blond.

“Yeah. Nice of Brooke to do that.”  
“You all set?” the younger Scott asks, looking his brother quickly in the eye before his gaze slides away.

“Yeah. At last, huh?” Lucas chuckles.  
“Luke, you know …” he pauses, thinking for a moment.

“What’s up, little brother? I’m supposed to be the nervous one.”

“Oh, I’m not nervous,” Nathan assures him. “Just … considering my wording.”

“What’s up?” Lucas repeats. “Just … out with it!”  
“You know how lucky you are, right?” the brunette asks boldly. “That you got another shot? That she _gave_ you another shot?”

“Yeah. I know. I do, Nathan. I won’t fuck this up.”

“Good. ‘Cos … seriously, man. I have to tell you; if you do anything to hurt her again, you’ll answer to me.”

“Hey man,” Lucas laughs, “I’m not sure threatening the groom is on the list of best man’s duties!”  
“I know, but it is on my list of best _friend_ duties. You’re my brother, Luke, and I love you and I want you to be happy. But I’m telling you loud and clear, if it comes to it again; I’ll back _her_.”

“Just as well it won’t come to it, then,” Lucas says confidently, his hand touching his brother’s shoulder briefly.

“Good. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Nathan goes to leave the tent when his brother speaks again, causing him to turn back.

“Nathan?”

“Yeah?”  
“Where’s this coming from?” he asks with his trademark squinty eyes. Maybe a little suspicious.

Nathan looks at his brother and waits a couple of beats, before he answers the question with a question.

“Where did it come from back in junior year when you told me you were watching me and you’d protect Haley from me if you had to?”  
“Fair enough,” his brother nods.

 

 

A few minutes later the best man slips quietly into the tent at the other end of the clearing.

“Hey.”  
“Hey!” she says, happily, her green eyes shining and a wide smile on her beautiful face. “It’s the Best Man!”  
“You got that right, Sawyer. Far and away the best man,” he smirks.

“And the most modest, too!” she teases him affectionately.  
“How you doing?” he asks gently.  
“Good _now_! I sent Brooke away for a while; she’s getting all Bridezilla on me.”

“And she’s not even the bride,” he comments drily.

“I know, right!? God help us all when it’s her turn in the white frock.”  
“Speaking of, you look amazing.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” she replies with a cute little curtsy. “How’s Luke?”

“Fine.”  
“Fine? Well, _that’s_ enthusiastic!”  
“No. I mean … I just ... oh hell … he’ll tell you anyway,” Nathan stumbles over his words, hands disappearing into his pockets in an uncharacteristically coy move.

“What?”  
“I just … read him the rules according to his little brother.”

“I don’t follow …” she replies with a puzzled expression.  
“Reminded him how lucky he is that you gave him another shot.”

“Nathan!”  
“ _And_ ... that he’ll answer to me if he does anything to hurt you again.”

“Nate,” she says softly, searching his face, “you …”  
“Didn’t need to? Yeah, I did. Like I told him, Best Friend loyalty will trump Best Man obligation if it comes to it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she says softly, her hands fluttering uncertainly.  
“Nothing.”  
“No … not nothing. Nathan …”  
“Just … c’mere, Sawyer.”

He pulls her into a tight hug, holding her for a long time, his cheek near her ear, breathing her in.

“I love you, Sawyer.”

“I love you too, Nate.”

She pulls back to see that he is looking almost … teary?

“You okay?” she asks softly, her palm against his cheek, her big green eyes gazing up at him.

“Yeah. Just …”  
“C’mon … tell your best friend!”

He waits for a moment and she can see that he’s really nervous.

“Oh,” she says, realisation dawning. “You haven’t heard yet? Nathan … they’re gonna call. You’re gonna get called up. I know you are.”

“It’s not …”

She looks at him hard this time and sees the internal workings; that he’s trying to make a decision. Will he or won’t he? She wonders what it is that’s got him so hesitant. He’s not usually at all indecisive.

“I …” he begins. “I’ve got something for you, but I can’t decide …”  
“When to give it to me? Now! I love presents!” she exclaims with delighted excitement.  
“I can’t decide _whether_ to give it to you,” he says quietly, almost unable to meet those eyes.

“Well, that’s just _mean_!” she protests with a good-natured laugh. “Tell a girl about a present then not give it to her! And on her wedding day, no less!”

“Okay,” he sighs, his shoulders dropping a little and making her wonder exactly what’s going on.

He reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out a silver band. No box. No wrapping. Just the silver band. It’s wide and funky, engraved all around with what appears to be an abstract design.

“That’s _gorgeous_!” she exclaims. He places it in her palm, wrapping her fingers around it and holding her hand closed with his for a moment. When she unfolds her fingers and examines the ring she realises it’s not an abstract pattern at all; it’s two entwined initials, repeated over and over.

“PS,” she says, tracing the etching, her smile growing even wider. “Peyton Scott.”  
He can’t help it. He has to say it. “You’ll always be Peyton Sawyer to me.”

“I’m kinda glad about that,” she says as she rotates the ring, examining it, running her slim fingers over the initials, admiring the craftsmanship, feeling the weight of the silver in her palm, idly counting the repetitions of the initials. “Seventeen?”

“Oh God,” he breathes, “you counted.”

“Problem?”  
“I should’ve known you would.”  
“Why seventeen?”  
He rubs his palm over his face, then finds his hand pulled away by hers, finds her searching his gaze with her own as she grips his hand between hers.

“Nate?”  
“The number of weights on that old-school bench press that have PS scratched into them,” he admits almost shyly.

“I thought you were going to say how old we were when …”  
“We broke up for the last time? That too.”  
“Well then,” she says with a tremulous smile and a tiny unsure note in her voice, “it’s definitely S for Sawyer, isn’t it?”  
She starts to slip the ring onto the ring finger on her right hand but he stops her, wrapping his hand around hers.

“You can do that later,” he says firmly. “It doesn’t really go with your bridal …”  
“But it goes with _me_ ,” she says firmly, interrupting him. She goes to put it on again, but spots something else; more engraving on the inside of the band. She stops, spinning it round, observing the swirling lines, puzzling over them, then turning the ring around, cracking the code and reading the words, running her fingertip over them, letting them turn around in her head for a few moments. _In and with._ In the space of a moment she thinks she understands their meaning but tries to persuade herself they can’t be that. They _can’t_. Then she meets his eyes and knows instantly that she’s right.

“Right,” he says, unable to hold her gaze for longer than a moment, and turning away, “I should …”

She grabs his hand and stops him.

“Nathan …”  
“Sawyer …”  
“You mean it?”

“It’s …” he pulls his hand away, raising both of his in an _it’s okay_ move that is more like his brother than him, but she ignores that and walks between his hands as if they were outstretched in a _hug me_ gesture, flattening her palms on his chest and in an instant his hands fall to her hips.

“I can’t say the _in_ and the _with_ ,” he whispers to himself, not even realising the words have been spoken aloud.

“I know,” she says with complete understanding, causing him to pull back, surprise, and maybe a little wonder, etched on his face.

“You too?” he asks, really not believing she truly does know what he means, let alone that she also …

“Of course,” she says as if it’s the simplest truth ever. “Of _course_ , Nathan.”

He shakes his head just a little. This is unreal. Her fingers slip away from his chest.

“I can’t say the _in_ and _with_ either,” she says, her eyes locked with his. “This is my _wedding_. And … God … you’ve already had _two_ of these!”

“But … we’ll know,” he says. Softly. Gently.

“We’ll know,” she agrees. Softly. Gently.

“I …”

“How hard will it be?” she asks, the thought having just occurred to her, as she absorbs that he has been living with this for a long, long time.

“Watching you marry someone else?” he says, a softly teasing tone apparent.

“No!” she teases back. “I _know_ about that.”

Of course she does. She was there when _he_ married his someone else. She’d laughed and told him he’d had his chance. He had. And he’d blown it. It all seems a million years ago now. And yet it could have been yesterday too.

“I mean,” she continues, “ _living_ with it. How hard will that be?”

“It’s … okay,” he answers, consoling, encouraging. “It is. You just get on with things and … maybe … you just let your head go there … occasionally.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him.

“ _Very_ occasionally,” he says, unable to stop his cheeky smirk.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he assures her.

“Is that why you were so … absent … when I first came back?”

“After you kicked me in the ass at the hospital? Yeah … I just … for you to come back after all that time and instantly be the _only_ one that knew what I needed. I had a lid on it before then. And while you were away it was easy … and it just … I’m sorry … it was shitty of me, to pull away like that. I knew you were having a rough time.”

“Don’t apologise to me. Ever. I get it.”

“Is that why you weren’t really in touch for ... oh let’s see ... the three _years_ before you came back?”

“Partly. And … you know, triangles and all … I’m …”  
“Don’t,” he mimics. “I get it.”

“Knock! Knock!”

“Oh look, it’s the Maid of Honour-Zilla,” Peyton drawls as Brooke flies in.

“P. Sawyer-almost-Scott! Five minutes and we’re walking. Hey, Best Man. Doesn’t she look gorgeous?”

“Just a bit,” he drawls with a wink.

“Brain wave!” cries the brunette, jumping excitedly and clapping her hands.

“Oh no!” quips the bride, in the same perky tone, and mimicking her best friend’s actions.

“Nathan, you can walk her up the aisle!” Brooke says as if she’s just had the best idea in the world, ever.

“No!” It’s Peyton, not Nathan that protests. She can’t imagine a world where she could make that walk with him. Where he gave her away. Or gave her _up_?

“But, P …”  
“Brooke! It’s fine. Leave it as it is. I’m perfectly happy walking myself up the aisle. And Nate’s the Best Man. It’ll be weird if he walks me up then crosses over to Luke.”

“But …”  
“Brooke, please. This is the way I want it. Do I have to play the _I’m the bride_ card?”

“Yes!” Brooke insists with a pretty pout.

“Brooke! I’m the bride!” she insists with her eyebrows high, and her hands threatening to land on her hips.  
“Oh … _alright!_ C’mon then, Hotshot … off you go and do your Best Man thing. You should be in position any minute.”

“One hug …” he insists. Brooke grins and steps forward to hug him.

“Nice, Davis,” he says drily as she steps back again, “but I meant the bride.”

He pulls Peyton into his arms, holding on, kissing her temple and murmuring right by her ear.

“Save me a dance?”

“Of _course_ ,” she breathes into his ear.

“And … we’ll know.”

“We will.”

He releases her and heads out, turning back and, with a wink to both her and Brooke, offers one parting shot. “You look beautiful, Sawyer. As do you, Maid of Honour-zilla.”

“Get out of here!” yells Brooke. “Go get your brother and get to your places!”

* * *

 

 _He’s_ dancing with his wife of six years, and _she’s_ dancing with her husband of six hours, when they come into each other’s orbit and the groom laughingly suggests to his younger brother that they swap dance partners; wives for best friends. Lucas swings Haley around and they’re stepping away lightly, already chatting, Lucas making Haley blush as he teases her about her crazy use of _Poison_ lyrics during the ceremony.

Nathan holds the bride in his arms, feeling her breath on his cheek, allowing himself just a moment of ‘what if?’

“Mrs Scott,” he says near her ear.

“Mr Scott,” she replies.

“One day, Sawyer,” he breathes into her hair.

“I _can’t_ think that. I _won’t_.”

“No. I know.”

“The most I can think is _in_ and _with_. That’s all,” she concedes.

“It’s enough. It is.”

“I …”

“Look. I love her and you love him. You do. So you do it with your whole heart and that won’t be hard when …” he pauses and brushes his palm ever so softly across her still flat stomach, “... when this one comes along.”

“What? I …”

“How far along?” he asks tenderly.

“No one except Lucas and I … you’re the only … how did you _know_?”

“How were you the only one that could get me out of that wheelchair? We just know.”

“Eight or nine weeks. Still early. Too early to …”  
“Nothing will happen. You’ll have a beautiful daughter with green eyes and a stroppy attitude or a handsome son with blue eyes and a killer fadeaway. And you will love your husband and your family with your whole heart. You will. Peyton, seriously - don’t worry about that; you’ll find it impossible not to.”

She nods, a little smile present, a little teary too.

“And very, _very_ occasionally, we’ll just _know_ , Peyton. And it’s okay, really it is. We have amazing lives, and it’s okay.”

“Alright. I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

“You’ll be amazing and … every so often, I’ll tell you _I told you so_. And whenever you do something amazingly Peyton Sawyer-esque, and I tell you _I told you so_ in public, you’ll know just what I mean.”

“Can you tell me something else?”

“Sure. What?”  
“Can you _tell_ me? Just once?”

“Will you tell me back? Just once?”

She closes her eyes and her nod is barely perceptible.

She can barely hear the words, even knowing what they are. She knows no one else could possibly make them out but even so, she understands what a risk it is, in the middle of the dance floor, hours after she talked about salvation and adoration and said I do. And she meant it. She _means_ it. And she hopes with her whole being that this man, in whose arms she’s being held, is being truthful when he says it’s okay, that it can be done. And she hopes she’s not the worst person ever in the world, but she needs to hear the words _just once_.

“I love you, Sawyer,” he murmurs right by her ear. “I’m in love with you. _In and with_.”

She sighs against him and is almost overwhelmed by the sense of utter completion that washes over her.

“I lo …” she begins. But he stops her, turns her round and places her hand in the outstretched hand of his brother, places a kiss on her temple, murmurs “I know” and steps away.

“Hey, Wifey,” the blond Scott smiles against her cheek.

“Hey, Hubby.”

“How are my girls?”  
“I really don’t know how you’re so sure it’s a girl.”

“I just know. You sure you don’t want to make a big announcement?”

“It’s too soon.”  
“It’s all gonna be fine.”  
“I know. But …”

“Just our secret for now, huh?”

“Yeah. You okay with that?”

“Whatever you want, Peyton Scott. I love you, you know that?”  
“I know. I love you too, Luke.”


End file.
